


The Salvage Yard Hussy

by Vexed_Wench



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Assumed Relationship, Community: trope_bingo, F/M, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:53:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexed_Wench/pseuds/Vexed_Wench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of the towns people have the wrong idea about Dean.<br/>Written for the Gold Digger Square on my trope Bingo card.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Salvage Yard Hussy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spiralicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralicious/gifts).



Pearl poked her husband in the ribs and nodded towards the door. "He's here again," she hissed. "It's just not right. Someone should do something about the likes of him."

"Pearl, we don't know anything about the kid." Alfred sighed as he continued to stock cans of soup.

"We know he's trouble. He is too secretive. He has been in here at least twice a week for the past month. We still don't know much about him," she snapped.

"That's not a good enough reason to be hateful about him. For all you know, he could be a good guy. Maybe he just doesn't like gossipy old women?" Alfred grinned.

"I am _not_ old," she hissed.

"Then you admit you're a gossip?" He asked her.

"When is the last time you saw a guy that was as young and attractive as he is shacked up with the town drunk out of love. No one really knows how much Bobby Singer is really worth. I would bet our last dollar he is worth enough to keep that pretty boy hanging around, until he gets every last scrap of dough out of him. You want to bet we will see his pretty little ass on the way out of town after he gets his hands on everything?" She swore.

"I don't think Bobby is paying that guy for sex. Do you really think he is some kind of high paid gigolo slumming it here in Sioux Falls?" he laughed at the idea.

"What would you know about gigolos, high priced or otherwise?" she demanded.

"That's it, Dear, you caught me. All the times I've said I was hiring bag boys, I was really hiring high class rent boys. They all want sixty year old men that are balding." He smirked.

"Oh you..." She snapped and smacked him on his shoulder.

"Ouch, look how you wound me. Maybe you should worry more about _our_ marriage then what Singer is doing in his bed?" Alfred complained. After forty years of marriage, he knew how to push her buttons.

"You deserved it. You're not allowed to call them bag boys anymore. Besides, Bobby is a lot older than the tart he has living with him," she reminded him. They walked the short distance to the register. 

"You would think, if he was a gold digger, they would be eating better. The ones we see on the morning television are eating lobster and top of the line steaks," he pointed out.

"Our steaks are the best in town. That little _tramp_ is lucky to be able to even taste the steaks we cut here." She said.

"Dear, how often does he buy steaks? They eat more burger and cheap beer," he reminded her.

"Okay, maybe it's not high priced food he's getting out of it. You really think it is just sex?" She whispered.

"Honey, I don't want to think about those two getting the sheets sweaty," he told her. 

"He has to be getting something out of that poor Bobby Singer," she whined.

They both quit speaking when they noticed he was bringing his basket to the counter.

"You enjoying your stay?" she asked him.

"It's nice here," he nodded. 

"You going to be staying long?" Alfred asked.

"Maybe, I'm not sure. I guess when I wear out my welcome, I will be forced to move on," he replied with a wink.

"Oh, you move around often?" Pearl asked him.

"Family business keeps us on the road," he explained.

"What would that be?" Pearl asked him.

"We do very specialized pest control," he said with a wink.

"We always try to support local businesses. Why don't you leave a few cards and we can pass them out for you?" Pearl grinned.

"Thanks, but we only deal with a certain type of clientele. We get more than enough referrals from word of mouth. Thanks anyways, Sweetheart." He smiled and paid his bill.

"Dean, you about ready?" Bobby Singer asked as he walked into the small market.

"Geez, keep your pants on. We'll be home soon enough, Bobby," Dean called back.

Pearl watched as Bobby took one of the bags from the hussy, no wait, she corrected herself, from Dean.

"I bet they have special clients. Ones with fat wallets or something else that boy needs," She said.

"You can ask the sheriff about him in the morning," Alfred told her.

"That is a great idea. I should make a list of all the things he said today, so she can do a proper job," Pearl told him as she rushed back to their office.

Alfred wasn't sure who he felt more sorry for; Dean, the sheriff, or himself. He just hoped something interesting would happen in town that would interest his wife more.

The last thing he wanted was to deal with Dean or Bobby storming down to defend their honor.


End file.
